Morning Rituals
by imthepunchlord
Summary: When he married, Ichigo never realized just how many different mornings he would wake up too.


When he married, Ichigo never realized just how many different mornings he would wake up too.

Before, he knew three basics:

Waking up alone.

Waking up to his dad attacking him.

And waking up to Rukia insisting it was time to track down hollows, or he'd be late to school.

Post marriage, he found that every time he woke, there was something different to happen. For Rukia could never settle with just a simple good morning kiss _every_ day. No, she loved to mix up waking him up.

"A good variety," she would say to his grumbles.

And there certainly was quite a variety…

Most mornings he woke to her close, but not always as gushy romantic as most would imagine.

Sometimes he would to her laying on top of him, using his chest or back as a "table" to draw in her sketchbook. And when she was low on inspiration, she'd doodle on his face. Most of the time he learned of this _after_ he got to work, Rukia the sly fox not giving anything that she drew on his face; and it wasn't till he heard his crew snickering did he know that she drew on his face _again_.

The most exhausting mornings were when she had a lot of energy.

Where she gets it, he doesn't know. Maybe Ukitake gives her sweets, maybe her brother came her extra strong coffee and a lot of sugar to help her down it; either way, she'll bursts into the room and _bounce_ about. Like the bunnies she was obsessed with. She flop about on their giant bed, flop on _him_. She'd roll around, tug at the covers, insisting, "Come on Ichigo! It's nearly _ten_!"

A few times she's successful, dragging him out by his ankles while he grumbled and growled the whole way.

But he never let go of his pillow.

Sometimes she wasn't.

Whenever she got like this, he'd either ignore her, her grab her. She never gets out of his grip easily, especially when he doesn't want to let go. Only when she starts smacking him with a pillow does he ease up on it. Then she tries to drag him out.

His least favorite was the still, hushed mornings.

He'd wake up on his own, mostly fully rested; but always in a sour mood to find just himself in bed, alone. With the faint scent of lavender and the fading warmth from the bed sheets to tell him how long he was alone; Ichigo was finding these mornings happening quite frequently. As Ukitake got ready for retirement, Rukia prepared to take his position as captain. A mater she took seriously, serious enough to leave early, let him sleep in, and wake up alone.

If she had time to spare, she left him a Chappy good morning card, full of her horrible scribbles, often commenting how he still looked grumpy, even in sleep. And that he always drooled.

These cards both soured and improved his mood.

The better still mornings had to be right after her rush to work, or whenever work died down enough that she wasn't needed there immediately. It was uncommon mornings where he woke up first for once. Clutching his arm, pressed tight to his chest, or held tightly by him while she slept; these mornings she was always snuggled close. Her soft hair against his neck and jaw, the scent of lavender filling his head, her breathe tickling his collarbone. Sometimes her nose if she snuggled closer. She was always curled up into a ball, seeking warm even on the hottest nights. On his side or on his back, he always made sure she was snuggled up close. Her pillow long replaced by him.

And if her week wasn't exhausting, _he_ took the chance to doodle on her face.

Revenge was sweet, and worth it as the worse she always did was steal his pillow, which he always got back when she wiggled back to him in her sleep. His arm or chest preferred over any pillows.

His favorites were when Rukia was in a slow mood. No desire to get out of bed yet, she would lay next to or on top of him. Her hand running through his hair, sending him into a deeper sleep as the gesture made him shiver and relax. She'd giggle when he pressed closer, breathing her in, enjoying everything. Her smell, her soft cool skin, her gentle touch…

He never wanted to get out of bed.

Much less wake up.

But Rukia could never just let things be.

Always she'd find a way to rouse him.

Her lips would press and kiss his shoulder, his neck, chin, nose, eye lids, ears, forehead, and his lips. His lips were always last. No matter how much he wanted to sleep, he could never say no. His lips moved against her, his hand moving up the dips and arcs of her back while her own hands gliding and weaved around him. His hair would be tugged, his scalp tickled by the tips of her fingers. Her other hand weaved over his chest and shoulders, tracing rough scars, skimming over his moles and drawing unknown pictures on his skin.

Always making him shiver and moan.

She always knows how to make him tick.

Just as he knew how to make her gasp.

His mouth left her lips and went to her neck to nip and lick, the hand in his hair squeezing those strands sharply.

"Good morning," she'd utterly breathlessly, giggling when he only grunted, too focused on the task at hand.

It was mornings like these that he loved the most. Even if it didn't lead to early morning love, simply kissing and laying in each other's arms, he was content to let the whole day slip by.

And when the kids came, inheriting their mother's energy and bouncing on him, drawing on his face… he enjoyed waking up giggles. It also gave him a chance to clean his face before work.

His favorite with the kids had to be when they came to snuggle and sleep in with him, and Rukia settled to return to bed; and he'd have a big heap lying and snuggled on top of him.

Those were the best.


End file.
